A flurry of hands rose up, reporters and bloggers all hoping to get in one more question for their piece before the moderator pointed to a young girl, college age with a streak of purple in her hair and her eyebrow pierced, looking more sheepish than what her eccentric appearance boasted. She gripped the proffered microphone in her hand, careful to avoid the envious gaze of the hotshot reporters as she cleared her throat and smiled up at August. "Hi, Mr. Booth. First I wanted to say that I love your book. I couldn't put it down once I picked it up. It was so refreshing to go into a bookstore and see on their bestsellers shelf right when you walk in a book that was about people like me."

"Thank you," August grinned. "And what's your name?"

"Sam. Samantha Chan."

"I'm really glad you liked it, Sam Chan."

Her cheeks tinted pink as she laughed lightly into the mic. "I was just wondering what your inspiration was when you were writing or even thought about writing?"

The smile that stretched across the author's face could only be described as smug. It was a question he had been asked numerous times, and the usual answer he gave some inquisitive reporter was that every love story should be told or that it was about time there was more representation in media. While true, and he stood firmly behind his belief, this time, as he grinned down at Sam Chan, his go-to reply was thrown out the window when Malinda motioned once again that time was up. "Well," August began wryly, "let's just say that I'm late for my inspiration's wedding."


August thanked his lucky stars that there were no plane delays and that the car he had requested to be waiting for him when he arrived in Portland appeared as soon as he stepped outside. He was smart enough to change out of his jeans and shirt and into his tuxedo in the plane's lavatory since by the time he was passing the Welcome to Storybrooke sign and speeding down to the marina, he was cutting it close to the ceremony. The parking lot wasn't necessarily a traffic jam, but the cars parked on the gravel nearly filled the entire lot. His dashboard clock ticked down another minute as August contemplated squeezing the hybrid into a space between a Camry and a station wagon. Thinking better of it, and severely debating just to ditch the vehicle and head up into the banquet hall overlooking the sea, August remembered himself and smirked as he pulled into the disabilities parking by the main entrance and slapped his sticker on the dash.

He bypassed the outer stairs where a few guests were milling about on the top level patio balcony either having a smoke or catching up. The ceremony was set to start in less than ten minutes, and already he could hear multiple voices scolding him for almost being late. Whipping back the main doors by the foot of the stairs, August was greeted with the cozy bottom floor of the banquet hall, a room that was all wood furnishing and trophy cases of the yacht club that met there. All around the room on side tables were small flower vases holding red and purple roses illuminated by an LED light at the base of the vase. Photographs of Emma and Regina and even Henry were hung up on the walls in perfectly captured moments while another picture of the couple bordered by six inches of blank space now scribbled in with guests' well wishes and congratulations stood on an easel just off to the side of the entrance. In the center of the room was a grand staircase leading to the second floor of the banquet hall. It was illuminated by fairy lights wrapped around the railing and ornately decorated with purple tulle ribbon with red flowers embedded into it. August almost stopped to admire the view since he hadn't been able to make it to the rehearsal dinner, but he needed to find Emma's dressing room and quickly. Turning haphazardly, he yelped as he knocked into a body. Curses flew in the air from both parties.

"Watch it, mate!"

A brash dismissal was bubbling in his throat before he got a good look at just who he had bumped into. A woman, short, fair skin, and auburn hair pulled back in a messy bun with tendrils framing her face was holding a flower arrangement carefully between her hands. She muttered to herself as she grumpily reorganized the red and purple calla lilies, none too quietly insulting those who couldn't bother to look up as they walked. A few stray petals fell from the arrangement and fluttered onto her black skin-tight dress that was shorter than it was appropriate. Emma could wait, August decided.

"Sorry," he ducked his head bashfully and flashed a crooked smile. "I've got my head on backwards."

She finally looked up from the arrangement and none too subtly raked her eyes over his tailored tuxedo, the visible royal purple vest and matching bow tie. A smirk curled around her burgundy painted lips. "Are you late or lost?"

Her Australian accent was unmistakable now, and it made August take another step closer. "A bit of both. I'm the Man of Honour, and I can't even appear on time."

Accented Beauty laughed, and it was a deep, mischievous chuckle that made August slightly glad he was coming in a little late. "I take it you're the blonde one's Man of Honour. She's in the room down the hall and to your left."

He turned to look behind him as she pointed, but when he quickly looked back to thank her she was already out the main door and turning onto the outside stairs. Through the windows, she smirked at him and motioned her head for him to get a move on. August chuckled to himself and jogged toward Emma's dressing room, making it just in time for the door to whip open and present the judging face of Ruby in a purple knee-length dress holding a bouquet of red roses.

"You're late." The brunette glared as August leaned in to kiss her cheek and step pass her.

"I like to make an entrance." He nodded and clapped Neal's shoulder who was sitting on a chaise in the corner wearing a similar tux. "Where's Emma?"

"August?" Emma's voice, light yet confident, echoed from behind a curtain. He stepped past the nook that housed a vanity which held a hair curler and more cosmetics than he'd ever seen to reach the curtained area just beside it. He knocked on the wall before popping his head in when she beckoned his entrance.

The grin on his face was nothing compared to Emma's.

August had only seen Emma in a dress a handful of times, the more recent being this past Christmas at Storybrooke's annual Christmas gala where the former soldier donned a red long-sleeve cocktail dress and grinned happily beside her wife. Of course, neither Emma nor Regina could wait as soon as same-sex marriage was legalized in Maine. It was romantic, really, when August had heard the story the evening after they had appeared in front of a judge and signed their marriage certificate. Emma had woken Regina at the crack of dawn, and though still half asleep, Regina had known exactly what the younger woman was going to say.

"Marry me," Emma had whispered into a kiss with wild eyes and no ring and just sheer love pouring through her.

"Yes," Regina had nodded, tugging Emma to her and back into bed, muttering about how the marriage office wasn't open for another four hours yet.

They had been officially married for over a year now, but reaffirming their commitment to one another for their friends and family to see was something they had planned the moment they became Swan-Mills. August had given them hell that he wasn't there to witness the official union between the two women, but standing before Emma mere minutes before she was to walk up those stairs and tell the world how much she loved Regina, well, he could hold his tongue on that one.

Emma stood in the small curtained off nook beside a cushioned chair. Her hair waved down her shoulders in loose curls and half pinned up with a rhinestone flower-shaped brooch. Make-up had never been a priority for the young woman who never had use of it growing up and found it impractical during her deployment, but the light foundation and pale pink eyeshadow around her eyes made her glow. The scar running down her cheek had minimized only minutely over the years, but it was nothing compared to the blonde's megawatt smile. Her dress was fairly simple and lacked the extravagance most brides put into their wedding dresses, but for Emma, simplicity was all she could ask for. Eggshell in colour, the bottom layer was a satin shift reaching her ankles with the top being a lace overlay, the design matching the flower pendant in her hair. The lace draped over the satin, following the v-neck curve of the bodice yet covered Emma's shoulder. August knew that she was still self-conscious at times about her prosthetic, but she looked like she didn't have a care in the world beaming back at him. The only jewelry on her was a circle pendant nestled gently against her collarbone that said more than any diamonds or pearls could ever attempt.

Tears welled up in his eyes as his breath caught in his throat. This. This was too good to be true. His baby sister was getting married. For over fifteen years he had watched this stubborn teenager grow into the beautiful, strong woman before him, but now he was standing in front of her on her wedding day looking like—hell, winning the lottery couldn't even hold a candle to the joy radiating off Emma's face.

"Well?" She asked hopefully, picking up a small arrangement of purple calla lilies from the chair in the corner to add to her look.

A tear slipped, and Ruby teasingly nudged him further into the room to get his feet moving. Wordlessly he stood in front of her, and with a gentle push of his finger, turned her around slowly. Reaching just past her to the chair, he scooped up the clip that held her veil, carefully extending the chiffon material until it flowed to the middle of her back. Precise fingers clipped the veil just below the brooch, and as August gently fanned out the material, Emma turned slowly in his arms with a watery smile.

"You," he said earnestly with a kiss to her forehead, "are tied for first for most beautiful bride here."

Emma laughed with a shrug. "Second best."

"Jesus, you're whipped already," August groaned.

Emma laughed again and pulled him into a hug which August was quick to return. "I was worried you weren't gonna make it."

"And miss the chance to see my baby sister make the best decision of her life?" August rapped his knuckle gently against her chin. "Never."

"We're starting soon, guys." Neal called, followed by the door opening allowing the faint sounds of instrumental music playing from the upper level to filter below.

August offered his arm, grinning when Emma laced hers through it, then parted the curtain. "Let's go make it official."


Growing up, Emma was never the type of child to throw a pillow case over her hair as a makeshift veil and make a toilet paper bouquet, gliding down an imaginary aisle to her Prince (or Princess) Charming. In fact, she had her funeral more mapped out than her wedding because at least that one she was guaranteed.

Writing to Regina changed everything.

For nearly thirteen years, the lives of Regina Mills and Emma Swan had been intertwined so carefully it was as if the sisters of fate themselves had weaved their lifelines together. The last five had been an emotional rollercoaster for the small family. Not only did Emma continue to suffer from her PTSD, but Regina, and Henry by extension, had their paths to acceptance cave in with Emma's presence. Neither Mills had complained about it, even though there were times when Emma feared they would resent her for it. Dr. Hopper had voiced his concerns about their seemingly hasty reunion, but the family was more than ready to take any necessary steps to know each other once more.

Therapy sessions—individual, couple, and family—were attended every week. Henry had stopped his sessions six months after Emma's return, the child at the stage where the magic in miracles was still in arms' reach, and even their couples' therapy had dwindled down to near non-existent just last year. However, every week for almost four years, Regina drove with Emma to a therapist in Portland more trained to help Emma transition into the world once more after her secluded stay in Brookhaven. Most visits, Regina would sit in the waiting room, nervously fidgeting and disregarding the book she would always tote with her only for Emma to come out emotionally drained or distant during the ride back. Hours' worth pouring over guide books, internet searches, and talking with Archie opened up Regina's communication so that she could support the soldier whenever she needed.